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The last day of our holiday was a Saturday. We had to be ready in the hotel foyer at 1220 for the arrival of the coach that would take us to Cancun Airport. That gave us most of the morning for packing our bags, collecting a plate from the potter, and having one last look at what had been our palatial home for the past fortnight.
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We would miss the waiters, our chambermaid, friendly staff who maintained the gardens, the cleaners, the food and the smiling faces of people whom we had met. We would miss the sand, the sea and the beach. Memories of these things would linger on, and mementos would remind us of our visits to Cozumel, Cancun, Xcaret Eco Park and the Mayan pyramids at Coba. Photographs and videos would allow us to have a closer look at things and happenings that at the time had been all-absorbing, so that we missed much of the detail.
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The passing of time would impart a perspective to the holiday which we think was the best ever since were married in 1960, just over 50 years ago. It’s been the crème de la crème.
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Sure as his word, the local potter produced the plate which we bought as a gift for our daughter-in-law. How he managed to fire it, and cool it down without it crazing, I shall never know.
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I will not bore you with details of our return journey from Cancun to Gatwick Airport and from there to our home in constant heavy rain which undoubtedly contributed to a record number of accidents on the M25 that Sunday morning. Our driver avoided them all and safely returned us to base camp.
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